i've got a secret

The NSA has nothing on me.

Well, it does. But that is not what I meant.

I have been playing a slight game of deception with you. Since Wednesday, Mexpatriate has been broadcasting from the bucolic wiles of Prineville.

If you just asked "Prinville?" you are not alone. My brother and sister-in-law lived in Bend, Oregon for 41 years. This last year they decided to buy a lot outside of the small town of Prineville -- about an hour's drive east from Bend.

In December, they started building their new home. That is the reason they did not spend any time in Barra de Navidad this year. They have now moved in.

I am in Oregon for three reasons. The first is I wanted to see their new home. I have been camped out here for the past four days. Primarily reading and enjoying the restful summer days.

On Friday we took a drive up the Crooked River valley to enjoy what this area of Oregon offers  -- unbelievable scenery. I grew up in an area where rivers were surrounded by Douglas fir. The juniper here are sparse. But that gives the gaper a better view of the stark beauty of the surrounding mesas. Water. Rock. Trees. It is always a winning combination that cities cannot rival.

And then there are the sunsets.

The house sits on a ridge with a view of Mt. Jefferson and the Three Sisters. Even though the clouds are scant this time of year, the sunsets are memorable -- partially due to forest fire haze.

One of my peculiar amusements when I travel is collecting witty signs. I have three for you today.

The first is a sign in front of my favorite (perhaps the only) tri-tip sandwich joint in Prineville -- the Dawg House. I would have included it for its eccentric use of an umlaut over that "W." But that is not why I am sharing it with you.

I am sucker for vegetarian jokes. And this one is perfect. Right down to that Rabbinical "until now."

Darrel and I stopped for lunch today at the Bend Burger Company. Neither of us had eaten there before, though we have thought often of doing it.

Darrel had a Ruben; I had a Lava Butte hamburger -- with sides of garlic fries. Both of us were pleased. Like all good burger joints, it took ten or fifteen minutes for our food to arrive. The wait was worth it. And we had been appropriately warned that quality takes time.

The third sign will please those of us with libertarian hearts who are fond of Mexico.

This sign is on the road near my brother's driveway.

I like the message. It is your choice. Obey the speed limit on this smooth road -- or be forced to slow down after the street is turned into a washboard.

I was about to ask how this concept would work in Barra de Navidad. But, as J. Edgar Hoover used to say: "To ask the question is to answer it."

You may have noticed I only mentioned one reason I am in Oregon. I was about to tell you the other two, but they are personal. And, as open as my life is, I like to retain a bit of mystery.

If all goes well, I will be back in Mexico on Saturday afternoon. Or maybe not.